


I'll burn before you bury me

by Trash



Series: Isolation creations 2020 [4]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholism, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Kyle's had enough of Dan's smoke and mirrors and sleight of hand. He needs something real.
Relationships: Kyle Simmons/Dan Smith
Series: Isolation creations 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682932
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	I'll burn before you bury me

When the buzzer to his flat goes Kyle is bemused, and at a genuine loss for what day it is. Did he order a pizza? Because who the fuck else would doorstep him during a pandemic?

“What are you doing here?”

“I had something to show you.”

“WhatsApp down or something?”

Dan shifts his weight. He looks pathetic, where he used to look adorable. Kyle feels sorry for him in the worst way. “I just...thought we could talk.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Kyle looks at his bare wrist to check the time then looks at Dan. “Christmas is coming.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He fumbles through his pocket and pulls out a coin, holding it out. Kyle takes it, squinting at it under the sickly yellow light of his doorway. His stomach sinks. “It’s my 24 hour chip,” Dan says, proudly.

“To thine own self be true,” Kyle turns the coin over in his hand. “That’s funny.” 

“It’s what AA is all about,” Dan says, “honesty.”

Kyle looks at him. “Yes, Dan, I know all about AA. I’m the one who suggested it. Remember?”

“Kyle-”

“Of course you don’t remember,” he says. He flicks the coin, rolls it between his knuckles from his thumb to his little finger and back again. Deep, slow, breaths. He watches the coin move and chooses his words carefully. “You’re a fucking cunt, Daniel.”

“Hey-”

Kyle raises his eyebrows, says nothing. He waits patiently for Dan to say something else but nothing more happens. More nothing happens. Kyle palms the coin and holds out his closed hand. “Blow on it.”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation,” Dan protests, weakly. When Kyle doesn’t move or say anything he blows.

Kyle opens his hand to show it’s empty. “Sleight of hand,” he says, “I haven’t done this for ages. Lockdown has driven me mad.”

“You’re not mad.”

“You don’t know me, Dan.” He flicks his arms in front of him with a flourish and claps his hands, the coin reappearing between his fingers.

“That’s not fair.”

“I think it’s fair. You used to know me. I’ve changed. I’m no longer the audience for your smoke and mirror bullshit,” he says, flicking the coin in Dan’s direction. He misses the catch and it falls to the ground. “You thought you knew me. You thought showing up here, on my doorstep during a global pandemic, would win me over. You thought you could blind me with your AA bullshit and I’d swoon into your arms and we’d live happily ever after.”

“Kyle-”

“Well fuck you, Dan, because I don’t need you here to catch me anymore.”

“I’m sober.”

“You’ve got a coin,” Kyle says.

“Yeah. To prove I’m sober.”

“Oh, babe. That proves nothing to me. I could probably bulk buy those off the internet if I wanted to. It’s as useful as your fucking cycling proficiency badge. Twenty five metre swimming badge, the one where you dive for a brick in your pyjamas.”

“Kyle, please. I’m trying. Is that not enough?”

“The only thing you’re trying is my patience,” Kyle says. It’s not a lie. It’s exhausting, being so hostile. He understands now why prey give up. The urge to lie down, just a few seconds rest in the snow. He’s the little match girl. He was. Used to be. Isn’t anymore. He shakes himself out of it, straightens up. “I’ll ring you when I’m ready to talk. Okay, Dan?”

“No, that’s not okay.”

Kyle casts his mind back to the not so distant past. To the vodka bottle hidden in the bottom of the waste paper bin, to the poor shoe wear choice blamed for the totalling of his car, the doubts and the suspicions and the lies and the gaslighting grows to a crescendo in his head until he has to make a fist to bring himself back. “No,” he says, “I guess not,” and closes the door in Dan’s face.


End file.
